


Hiding in Plain Sight

by HighSidhe



Series: Random Snippets and Crossovers [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Moriarty!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 00:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4725650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighSidhe/pseuds/HighSidhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moriarty has always hidden in the shadows, manipulating things from the sideline. When someone decides to impersonate him, he can't help but get involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hiding in Plain Sight

It didn't take John long to realize that there was something amiss. The fifth pip had been at the forefront of his mind for the past hour or so, and this impersonator was nothing if not predictable. Really, choosing his flatmate, how much more obvious could he get? The longer this game continued, the less impressed he was towards the faux Moriarty. 

It had taken a little digging to figure out who was idiotic enough to try impersonating him this time. Apparently it was a bored little Irishman with a high IQ and not much in the way of common sense. Or self-preservation for that matter. John was well aware of many of the rumours floating around about him; he had planted most of them himself to deter others from thinking they could get away with playing with his organization.

He rapped against the glass separating him from the taxi and leaned it. "Excuse me, you um, you missed the street you were supposed to turn on." He told him. 

He didn't recognize the man, so that meant that he was either an expendable, since Moriarty tended to kill those unwittingly caught up in his games, or he was one of Moriarty's men and hadn't been poached from his own ranks. 

Whatever the case, he would be investigated thoroughly once this was all over. If he was really lucky, he wouldn't be conscripted into working for him.

"We're taking a little detour." Came the nervous reply as his eyes darted up to the rearview mirror.

John allowed his brow to furrow in confusion. "I didn't-" 

"Look, I don't know anything. I just have my orders and he ain't a man to cross." John noted the white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Whoever this man was, he was afraid of Moriarty. Probably a recent hiring then; he hadn't acquired the arrogant assumption of importance that modern goons seemed to develop. John hated dealing with people like that.

"Who?" John asked, nails biting into his palms as his eyes narrowed. 

"I dunno man, some Moriarty guy." Came the immediate answer. "Look, don't put up a fuss, he said he wouldn't be very pleased if I had to drug you, and he said that you wouldn't like that very much."

He was probably right. An unfortunate side affect of being a kingpin was that he knew exactly what various drugs and poisons did and what affect they had on the human body. It made his agents much more effective when they avoided using drugs with certain obvious side affects. 

Plus in the event of betrayals, knowing what drugs were used helped pinpoint the traitors since most had their preferences when it came to how they took people down and out.

Slowly he sat back, warily eying the driver. He didn't know whether the fake Moriarty was taping this or not, but just in case, he stayed in his John Watson persona. With luck, he would do the idiotic thing and reveal himself to him. He seemed like the sort to enjoy a good gloat, after all, and John sincerely hoped that that was what was about to happen. It was frustrating how well he managed to hide himself while at the same time making amateur mistake after another.

It was obvious to a professional like him that this man really had little idea what he was doing in regards to running his organization, especially given that he tended to kill people. That was bad for business no matter how one looked at it.

The dead couldn't pay money after all.

It made much more sense to take the pound of flesh, metamorphically speaking, than to outright kill unless no other options presented themselves. Traitors were amongst those that were outright killed, and Moriarty wouldn't survive the afternoon if he had any say. 

Eventually they were pulling up outside of a crumbling department building of all places. A moment later, the doors opened and several people streamed out, all of them holding weapons. He recognized quite a few of them, though only one of them was cleared to know who exactly he was. For all that they both recognized one another, the two of them were nothing if not professionals, and John's murderous expression did not shift, although he came quietly as guns were indicated in his direction, even allowing his hands to be bound in zip-ties. He made a quiet hand gesture to Moran as he dealt with his hands though Moran gave no indication of having seen it. 

John remembered to act shocked at finding out who Moriarty supposedly was, in spite of having figured out who was pretending to be him some time ago. He hadn't decided how to kill him just yet, but John had decided that whatever happened, he was going to die today, and preferably without any sort of showdown at all.

His impersonator might have been a fan of theatrics and drama, but John had always favored efficiency and competence.

"Hey there, Johnnie-Boy!" An energetic irishman immediately sang out as he was manhandled into a chair, "You remember me, right? I asked Sherly for his number; I was really hoping he would take me up on that!"

"You're Moriarty." He stated neutrally, ignoring the red dot dancing over his chest.

"How embarrassing it must be to realize that I've been under your nose this entire time!" There was a darker undertone to his words, belying the cheerful demeanor that he had in full effect. "So what do you think, John, will Sherlock be surprised to see me?"

"Oh yes, I can just imagine Sherlock's face when he discovers who Moriarty is." John responded, his voice dry. It's something he had imagined more times than he cared to count. "I don't see that happening however." At least not today.

Jim didn't seem to be taking him seriously, however, which didn't bother John all that much. It meant that he, like many others, underestimated what he was capable of. "You're adorable when you're making threats, John-bo." He grinned widely, "I've had so many ideas of how to spin this that I just can't decide which to go with!"

"Personally I'd go with none of them." John observed, "Seems awfully silly to just go and reveal yourself to your worst enemy. Gives them more to work with when bringing you down." 

"Too true, too true. But you don't understand, John, this is Sherlock; this is the great game. I don't expect you to really understand."

John raised an eyebrow. "Oh I understand all right. You're just like Sherlock, all genius intellect and no common sense. How you haven't gotten caught before now is beyond me." 

"That's why I'm revealing it to Sherlock and not Mycroft." Jim explained slowly, as if speaking to a child.

John shook his head in despair. "And you honestly think Mycroft won't find out?" He asked, genuinely curious if he was really that idiotic. "I don't think you quite realize just how dangerous Mycroft is. Or how pervasive his surveillance is."

"Oh I know better than most." Jim smirked slightly.

"I sincerely doubt that." John replied, leaving casually back in the chair, not concerned at all with the vulnerable position he was in. "I've been dancing around the git for years, after all."

Gone was the mild-mannered doctor that he had been playing. In its place was John Moriarty, one of the most deadly men in the world. 

"You? Why would Mycroft dance around you? You're nothing special." 

"Aren't I?" John asked as he regarded the man, "For being a genius you are awfully dense. " The zip-ties around his wrists fell to the floor as he pocketed the penknife that he had used to cut them. "You didn't even search me for weapons before bringing me up here." He observed mildly with an air of disappointment. "It's almost as if you know nothing about properly kidnapping people." Considering that he had been a lowlife before this little scheme, it really wouldn't surprise him to learn that that was the case. 

"I suppose I should offer some form of thanks though," He mused as he stopped only a foot away from the man, his hands jammed in his pockets. "While you've been playing merry havoc with Mycroft, my people have successfully smuggled a contingent of defence contractors out from under his nose, so I imagine Russia will be quite pleased with that. Still, that doesn't make up for the fact that my Chinese operations are stalled thanks to your little game." 

The myriad of emotions crossing the Irishman's face was rather amusing, almost as if he was starting to realize that underestimating Sherlock's 'pet', as he had lovingly referred to him as, was the worst mistake he had made in his life, right after impersonating him that was.

John had never been the sort to relish fear, however, and this little game Jim had been playing had long since lost its appeal. 

Time to end this.

"Take the shot whenever you're ready, Moran." He instructed, stepping out of the way. 

Whatever plea James had been about to make died from his lips as blood sprayed from his throat. 

John sighed as he watched the man collapse on the floor, bleeding out. It would take him a couple of minutes to properly die.

Just because John had little use for such things as fear and theatrics didn't mean the rest of his organization did, after all. 

Half a minute later, Moran ambled through the door followed by Catherine, his assistant. "I've got the files you requested." She told him, barely paying any mind to the man bleeding out across the floor. "One personnel file for James Sullivan."

John nodded. "Good, and did you bring what I requested?" He asked as he settled down in the chair. 

She held up a small bottle. "I did. As soon as you're unconscious, I'll leave an anonymous tip for Mr. Holmes to clear this mess up." She told him succinctly. "You are still planning on keeping up with appearances, correct?"

"Yes," John agreed with a grimace, "I suppose I am." It had been why he had tried to avoid coming back to London for so long. He had known that if he did, he would probably never want to leave again. "Would be suspicious for John Watson to disappear right after 'Moriarty' dies. If nothing else, they'd be trying to find and rescue me."

His gaze settled on Moran for a moment, "Thanks to Jim, Mycroft knows you work for me now."

The assassin shrugged. "It was bound to happen eventually. Besides, he still has no idea who Moriarty actually is." He said affably. "Pity you cut the ties,"

John snorted, "I doubt very much that anyone would be surprised if he had arranged a meeting without bothering to tie me up first. He didn't bother searching for weapons, after all. He's lucky the only thing I had with me was a penknife."

"A penknife that it more than capable of flaying a man alive," Catherine interjected dryly. "He's lucky you don't like getting blood all over your clothes, is more like."

"Yes, yes. Shall we get on with this?" John grumbled good-naturedly. "I want the room swept of everything, fingerprints, bugs, anything that can lead back to what actually happened here."

"And the body?" Moran asked as he distastefully nudged it with his foot. "Another statement, perhaps? Or would you rather this toad disappear quietly?"

John considered it carefully. On one hand, if 'Moriarty' disappeared quietly, it might alert Mycroft to the fact that he wasn't the real deal, assuming he didn't already suspect as much, which John felt inclined to think. If he though James was the real Moriarty, he would have been picked up long before now by the government given his lack of anything resembling stealth or subtlety. 

Mycroft probably knew and would most likely chalk it up to them cleaning house and assume that his role had been minimal in the proceedings. John doubted that Mycroft suspected that the criminal mastermind was living with his brother, and he doubted that it would occur to him to suspect that, especially since beyond the initial dig into his records, no further attempts at digging into his life had occurred that his people had noticed. 

Sherlock was the wild card in this instance. John did't have the same luxury with him of having worked around him for two decades. He would largely be going by ear where the younger Holmes was concerned, and he simply didn't know what to expect from his roommate. 

"Alright then," He muttered finally, decision made. "Leave the body somewhere. Not too obvious, but not too well-hidden, I want it found. Leave a calling card or some such, I want it made clear that this was an inner-house hit. Make sure they find certain files detailing who Jim actually is and make it clear that this was the work of a madman, not Moriarty."

"Although if Mycroft believed that for an instant than we've nothing to worry about." Catherine muttered as the activity picked up around them. 

"Given his actions since he started all this, I sincerely doubt that Mycroft believed for a second that he was actually an international criminal kingpin." John answered dismissively.

"What about you, sir?" 

"Give me a sedative and leave me somewhere they can find me.."

"Sir, Sherlock Holmes just texted him." Catherine observed, holding the phone in latex-covered hands. 

John considered the problem thoughtfully. It would make things easier if Sherlock were to find everything tidied up, and Sherlock had mentioned a pool earlier where his first case had taken place. "Tell him where it all started. Should make it nice and theatrical enough to sound like him. Midnight or some such." He waved it off. 

Catherine sent the appropriate text while Moran leafed through Sullivan's file. "Here's an address. Want us to leave you and him there?" 

John nodded. "Works for me. Clean up after yourself. And now, I need to be unconscious."

A tight prick in the side of his neck heralded a nap in his near future, and John felt someone catch him as he slumped out of the chair he'd been sitting in.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd.
> 
> I love Moriarty!John, but it's a bit of a pet peeve of mine when he reveals himself to Sherlock. I've always thought it would be much more interesting for Sherlock to have to actually work to figure out who Moriarty is rather than him just out and telling him. Plus I think that if Mycroft so much as suspected that John was actually Moriarty he would have him in custody post-haste.


End file.
